The Great Outdoors
by fourthage
Summary: Hawke/Fenris. Hawke decides to leave the wyvern hunting to the Orlesians and have fun her own way. Kinkmeme fill.


A/N - This is a slightly modified version to comply with FFnet's rating restrictions. You can find the original version over at Archive of Our Own, under the same title and username.

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><p>Hawke stared at the huge pile of wyvern dung, then at Tallis, who was looking at her expectantly. "You have got to be kidding," she said.<p>

The elf knelt by the dung and half-reached towards it before pulling back. "The more we have to bait the trap, the better our chances." She looked up at Hawke, "Do you want the honors?"

"No," Hawke said, while behind her Varric covered his laugh with a cough. She could just imagine how this was going to play in the bars of Kirkwall. "In fact, I think we're done here." She turned and started back up the path. Varric looked mildly disappointed, but Fenris quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement and stepped back to let her lead the way.

"You can't quit the hunt!" Tallis scrambled to her feet, "It would - it would be an insult! We need to win to get into Chateau Haine."

Hawke rolled her eyes, "I doubt that. What good is winning a hunt if you can't lord it over the losers afterward? There was a nice overlook back by that altar," she continued, cutting off further argument, "we'll be out of the way and we can watch the Orleisans muck about."

"Orlesians don't muck about," Tallis muttered.

"Sure they do," Varric said. "They just do it with ruffles on." Tallis laughed. Varric turned his head just enough to wink at Hawke before turning back with his most charming smile.

"Remind me later to buy him a round of the good stuff," Hawke murmured to Fenris as they followed Varric and Tallis back to the western edge of the hunting grounds. He smirked, then pulled her sharply to one side as a mabari came barreling down the path. The rest of the hunting party followed a moment later, more mabari and their handlers first, with the nobles bringing up the rear. One, in a truly awful hat dripping with feathers, paused to sneer.

"I told Prosper it was no use inviting Fereldens. No skill and," here he turned his sneer on Fenris, "no sense to buy proper help."

Blighted Orlesians. Hawke knew she shouldn't, but she put on her best society face to say, "But he is _so_ pretty to look at." Fenris made a choking sound, his grip on her arm almost painful. Feather-hat's sneer became even more pronounced, but he moved on without further comment.

Hawke started walking again, counting silently in her head. Fenris broke before she got to twenty.

"Pretty to look at?" he demanded.

"Very pretty," she agreed.

"Hawke."

Oh, there it was. That little half-growl that never failed to make her breath hitch and toes curl in anticipation. A glance assured her that Varric and Tallis were almost back to the main clearing. Hawke hooked her fingers into Fenris's belt and stepped backwards into the woods, pulling him along after her.

"Here?" he asked, startled.

"It would be a shame to let all of this _pretty_ scenery go to waste." That got her a real growl, one that she could almost feel in her chest, and suddenly she wasn't leading him so much as being herded back. "Clothes will have to stay on, well, mostly on," she amended, her steps quickening. "But," she stumbled backwards over an unseen rock and had to catch up against a tree to keep from falling. "I'm sure we'll figure it out," she finished, as he reached for her.

Fenris pressed her against the tree, mouth hard on hers. She still had her fingers in his belt, and she tried to tug him closer as he moved to kiss her neck. He chuckled, a deep sound that shot straight down her spine, and pulled away.

Well, that wouldn't do. Hawke unhooked her fingers from his belt and reached up to grasp the edges of his breast plate instead. She stepped and pivoted, spinning them both so _his_ back was against the tree, enjoying the way his eyes blinked and darkened when she pressed her hips against his. His hands, which had gone to her arms when she spun them, moved to her back, then down to rest in the small of her back. With his gauntlets on the pressure was teasingly light. Hawke shuddered and tried not to think of how easy it would be for him to simply rip through her leathers so he could touch her skin.

She kissed him then, on the mouth, slipping her tongue in when he gasped, before moving to kiss along his jaw and then back to suck gently on his ear. That made him thrust against her and she smiled to feel it. His hands tensed with the effort of not digging the sharp tips of his gauntlets into her. Hawke ran her tongue along the outer edge of his ear to hear him groan, then pulled back so he could kiss her again.

"Hawke," he said against her lips. Then, more urgently as she dropped to her knees, "Wait. Let me -"

"Leave them on," she said, kissing him through his leggings as he fumbled at his wrists.

"I'll hurt you," he said, his breath coming quicker as she undid his belt.

She pushed his leggings and smallclothes down just enough to pull him free. "No, you won't," she said, eyes on his as she leaned forward. Fenris cursed and pressed his hands hard against the trunk of the tree. She hummed appreciatively and heard him scour grooves into the wood.

She didn't tease him, but she didn't rush it either. She knew he was close when he swore entirely in Tevinter. He came hard, hands still pressed into the wood.

Maker, but his control ruined hers.

She swallowed and licked her lips, looking up at him. His eyes refocused and he reached down, grabbing her under the elbows and pulling her up. His lips were hot on her throat as she leaned into him.

"Now," she panted. "Now take them off."

She felt him fumble behind her back, trying to take his gauntlets off by touch without leaving her neck. After a moment, he hissed in frustration and drew back to peer over her shoulder. She laughed at him and twisted around to help. He let her undo the clasps while he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, nose bumping against the bottom of the braids coiled there. She slid off the first gauntlet and he curled that arm around her, elbow at her hip and hand reaching up to loosen the ties of her jerkin.

She had to stop for a moment when he slipped his hand under the leather and thin cotton shirt beneath to cup her breast. It wasn't for way it felt when he circled the nipple with his fingers, though that sent a frisson of want straight between her thighs. Even when she ended up sore and covered with bite-marks, that first touch on her body was always so gentle. She'd asked him why once, and he'd just closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, finally sighing, "Because it's you."

Lips on her ear brought her back to herself. Fenris murmured, "Just the one?"

She shook her head, not trusting her voice, and made short work of the remaining gauntlet. He pulled her tightly back, holding her against him for a moment. Hawke tilted her head back and saw he had closed his eyes. She butted her nose gently against his cheek.

He smiled, "Tell me what you want."

"I want us both naked somewhere we won't be disturbed for a week."

"Clothes stay mostly on," he quoted back to her. He kissed her softly on the mouth, then did the same along her neck and down to its base, where he sucked gently.

"I want - " her voice came out higher than she expected, and she swallowed hard. "Just - hands. Use your hands."

He made a low rumble of approval and she shivered to feel it against her skin. He had her belt undone in no time at all and slipped one hand in to begin stroking her. Her hips moved into his touch and she bit her lip at how close she was already. One hand reached back to hold his head and urge him on, fingers flexing and pulling. He growled her name and shifted his other arm from her breast to lay low across her hips, stilling her movement against his hand. He kept his touch light - too light - and she was almost, _almost_ there. She tugged harder on his hair, incapable of words.

He kept her there, just on the edge, until her whole body was trembling with need. "Please," she begged, and he bit down on her neck and finally let her come. She half-sobbed as it rolled over her, slumping against him as he continued to stroke her through the aftershocks. Hawke sighed, fingers carding through his hair.

"Did that make up for not being naked?"

Oh, but she could hear the smirk in his voice. Assuring herself that yes, her legs would hold her up, Hawke turned in his arms and raised her eyebrows.

"Did yours?" she asked. His smirk softened and he leaned in to kiss her in answer. Hawke wanted nothing more than to deepen it and go another round, but - "We'd better get back before Varric stops being distracting," she said reluctantly, pulling away.

"Is that even possible?" Fenris muttered. "The dwarf never runs out of words."

Hawke swatted him lightly and leaned down to collect his gauntlets. He did up both his belt and hers before letting her help him back into them. She re-laced her jerkin as they made their way back through the trees. He caught her just before they reached the path to kiss her again, long and sweet.

"Later," she promised, slightly breathless. "You can strip me out of my fancy party clothes and we'll give Varric a new chapter for his book."

"We are not doing anything within earshot of Varric."

Hawke laughed and stepped out on to the path. She led them past the hunting parties that were still (still!) camped in the clearing, nodding politely whenever they looked her way. The way some of them paled and looked quickly away, Fenris obviously had his glare on behind her. It wasn't until they started up the trail to where Varric and Tallis were hopefully waiting that he spoke.

"What did you bring to wear to the party?" he asked, then caught her as she almost tripped in surprise.

_Twice in one day_, Hawke thought. _Maker forbid I'm this bad later. The last thing a thief needs are clumsy feet. _"Um," she said out loud. "Nothing terribly frilly."

"A dress?"

"Trousers. And that purple vest you like."

"The one that laces up the back?"

"Yes," Hawke looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"I'm planning."

Oh. _Oh._

Of course, right at that moment they caught up with Varric and Tallis.

"There you are!" Tallis practically vibrated with nervous energy. "I was beginning to worry that you - I mean, of course you wouldn't just leave - but I was worried that you'd, well, never mind. You're back. Is everything okay? You didn't run into any wyverns?" she added hopefully.

"Just decided to take the scenic route," Hawke said, deliberately not catching Varric's eye. "How's the view?"

"Great," Varric said. "I can almost count the number of feathers stuck in their hats."

He was perched on a log near the edge of the overlook. Hawke settled down next to him and picked up an acorn, tossing it from hand to hand. "Perfect," she said, then winced as one of the men below tried to demonstrate . . . something with his sword and nearly took the head off the man standing next to him. "Please tell me they're not all that bad."

"Actually, I think that one's Ferelden." Varric held up his hands when she shot him an incredulous look. "He came with his own mabari and his pants clash horribly with his shirt."

"That doesn't mean he's Ferelden!"

"I also heard him talking on the way up. He's got the same accent you did when you first arrived."

"Cheater," Hawke said. Then, "Damn, that means Feather-hat wasn't just talking about me." Varric quirked an eyebrow at her. "Passed him and his hunting party on the way back. He seemed pretty keen. If he's competent, I don't think we'll have that long to wait."

"Really?" Tallis perked up from where she had been sitting off to the side, picking halfheartedly at the grass.

Hawke shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and see. Hey," she said to Varric, holding up her acorn, "want to bet if I can hit one of them on the helmet from here?"

Varric cast his eye over the men grouped below. The outer tip of one eyebrow twitched. If they had been playing Wicked Grace, Hawke would have folded and watched him take the rest of the table for all they had. "Closest two groups only," she added hurriedly. "No picking someone on the other side of the clearing."

"Would I do that?"

"Yes," Hawke and Fenris said together. Tallis giggled, which almost made Hawke forgive her for the whole dung thing. Almost.

Varric had the audacity to look affronted, "Such accusations! Just for that, Hawke, I'll bet four sovereigns."

Hawke threw a mournful look at Fenris, "He lets you get away with everything." He didn't answer, but a self-satisfied smirk hovered around the corners of his mouth.

"_Him_ I can beat at cards," Varric said.

Hawke grinned at him, "Name your target then. Let's see if your luck is any better away from Corff's fine vintage."

Varric picked a short man dressed in bright red pants and a top that even from their high vantage seemed more laces and buckles than actual shirt. She assumed he had a helmet on, somewhere under the explosion of feathers and ribbons perched on the top of his head. It was a very good pick; the man was barely still for more than two seconds at a time. He shifted his weight constantly, and every time someone spoke his head whipped around so fast the rest of his body followed a half-step. Aiming was useless. She'd have to just lob the acorn in his general area and hope he stepped the right way as it came down.

Hawke looked over her shoulder. "I don't suppose you'd kiss it for luck?" she asked Fenris. The look on his face said, no, he most definitely would not. Hawke sighed, sighted, and threw. The acorn arced gracefully as it reached its apex and started its tumble down. She tracked its trajectory and cursed under her breath.

"Rough luck, Hawke," Varric shook his head. Right as the words left his mouth one of the other hunters yelled at his mabari, and the man shied away to the left. Hawke laughed in delight as the acorn landed right in the middle of a cluster of white feathers. She was about to gloat when the man looked straight up at her.

"Oh shit," she said.

"Wyvern to the north," Varric suggested.

"Knew you were my favorite," Hawke breathed, pasting an excited look on her face and waving her arms in that direction. The man frowned at her for a moment, then grabbed one of his companions and began emulating her. Hawke sighed in relief.

Tallis came up beside her and frowned. "Aren't we going down?"

"There isn't actually a wyvern there," Hawke said patiently. "You know, like how Fenris isn't actually my manservant. It was a distraction."

Tallis looked at her like Hawke was the slow one. "I know that," she said. "I thought you were distracting them from the one over _there_." She pointed straight across the clearing, where a wyvern was creeping its way down the slope.

"Shit," Hawke said again.

The wyvern was easily fifteen feet long and reminded Hawke of the sharks she'd seen years ago on the voyage from Ferelden. One big muscle, with teeth added. It halted its descent just inside the treeline and set its feet, eyes fixed on the mabari nosing the ground behind a couple of stacked crates. The wyvern was upwind, but the mabari suddenly lifted its head and sniffed the air, body tense.

Fenris padded up next to her, rolling his shoulders to assure his greatsword was settled properly, and Varric unslung Bianca.

"No," Hawke said. They both paused, and Tallis drew in a breath to argue. "No," she repeated, more forcefully. "They're grown men who knew what they were getting into. We'll make sure they know it's there, since I've just made them all look the other way, but this is their blighted hunt." She thought for a moment. Anders could have set something on fire and Merrill could have startled the wyvern with that flying rock trick she liked so much, but Orlesians too often came with Chantry attachments and Hawke had not wanted to risk exposing either mage. "Varric?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Just out of range. If it gets that mabari it's eyeing though . . ."

"You could always throw another acorn," Tallis said and folded her arms, meeting Hawke's eyes in challenge when she glanced over.

"I could," Hawke agreed pleasantly, adding _watch your back_ to her list on Tallis, which already included _probably lying about her agenda _and _annoys Fenris._ "But I have a better idea." The mabari still hadn't noticed the wyvern, but it was clearly on edge. "The mabari is within range?" she verified. Varric nodded, and she explained what she wanted.

Hawke fingered her knives as Varric lined up his shot. If this didn't work, they would have to take more direct action. Stupid hats or not, even Orlesians deserved a fighting chance. "Bets on the winner?" she asked Fenris quietly, trying to hide her tension. She really didn't want to fight something like that without a healer.

He gave her a sidelong glance that said he wasn't fooled and settled his hand low on her back before saying back, just as quietly, "Only if I can bet on the wyvern."

Varric murmured lovingly to Bianca and pulled the trigger.

"Done," Hawke laughed, as the bolt flew. It whistled just over the mabari and the hound's head snapped around as the bolt buried itself in the ground. The mabari took a cautious step towards it, then froze, ears flattening against its head. It gave a short, sharp bark. One of the Orlesians looked back. Hawke watched him follow the mabari's line of sight to the trees and knew the moment he saw the wyvern. He reached out an arm to his nearest companion and yanked, pulling the other man off-balance and stumbling into him. The first man fell to one knee. His companion flung an arm out to try to right himself and only succeeded in knocking the hat off of yet a third man before landing heavily on the first.

Hawke groaned. Varric shook his head and patted Bianca, "Not your fault, sweetheart."

The commotion had gotten the notice of the rest of the hunting party, but they were laughing at the two men, ignoring the mabari. Fenris nudged her, and she looked back at the wyvern to see that its attention was also diverted. "Fuck," she said, sliding her knives out and scanning for the quickest way down.

The mabari barked again, and she broke her search just in time to see it launch itself at the wyvern, who had started to move forward again, this time toward the group of men. The wyvern whipped its head around faster than Hawke would have thought possible, and caught the mabari mid-leap with one sharply taloned claw. The mabari yelped in pain as its side tore open, and the force of the hit flung it back into the clearing, where it landed hard on its back. That got the Orlesians' attention, and suddenly there were shouts and weapons being drawn.

Hawke resheathed hers, "Hubert has a new oil in stock, Varric. Say the word and it's yours." She put a bit of a leer in her voice, "I'm sure Bianca would be very appreciative."

"Stop it. Rivaini's confused us enough already," Varric hunched over the crossbow protectively.

The wyvern roared, and charged into the clearing below. The group scattered, and the wyvern paused as it swung its head from side to side, trying to pick a target. The man Hawke had thrown the acorn at shouted something, and the uninjured mabari began a careful circle around the beast.

Tallis shifted uncomfortably. "We really aren't going to help?" she asked.

"We really aren't," Hawke confirmed. Anything further she was going to say was cut off as Fenris positioned himself between her and Tallis and wrapped an arm around her waist. Varric raised an eyebrow, as surprised as Hawke.

"They are _hunters_," Fenris growled.

"They're _people_," Tallis shot back. She turned to Hawke, "You're the Champion of Kirkwall!"

"Of Kirkwall," Hawke emphasized. "They chose to do this, and I earned that title on the end of the sword of someone who wanted to take away our choices." Tallis looked genuinely angry for the first time since Hawke met her, and Fenris's arm tightened. Hawke didn't know whether to be touched or insulted. He'd set her up against the Arishok, but he was feeling protective over an argumentative thief?

Tallis opened her mouth, then grimaced and looked away. "Fine," she said. "I don't want to argue. As long as you're still willing to help me get the Heart."

Hawke shrugged one shoulder. "Why not? If Orlesians dress like this during a hunt, I'm dying to see what they wear for an actual party." Varric chuckled, and Tallis smiled hesitantly.

"You'll probably feel underdressed," she said.

"No ruffles at all," Hawke agreed, feeling Fenris relax. "Not like that one - oh, nice try," she said as the man in question aimed a thrust at the wyvern's eye, missing by inches.

"His form is passable," Fenris admitted. His thumb rubbed idly over Hawke's hipbone as the man brought his sword up to block the claw that swung in retaliation. It was barely in time, and the man's wrists snapped back painfully. He stumbled, face white, and two more men rushed forward to harry the wyvern as he retreated. Fenris made a noise of disapproval, "Broken. The fool kept his wrists too stiff."

Hawke winced in sympathy. "Carver used to have that problem" she said quietly. "Always accused me of cheating when I disarmed him with just my daggers." She let herself a lean a bit against Fenris as the old ache rose. "If he'd only learned to give a little sometimes."

Fenris didn't respond in words, but he shifted to accept her weight, thumb continuing to stroke at her hip. Below them, the Orlesians fell into a pattern of quick attacks, each enough to wound but not to kill. They meant to bleed it till one of them could safely approach for the killing blow. Hawke wrinkled her nose as the breeze shifted and brought the stink of wyvern blood their way.

"Ugh, that smells almost as bad as darkspawn," Hawke cupped her fingers over her nose in an attempt to filter some of it out. Tallis had pulled out a handkerchief from somewhere and was using it to do the same. Fenris turned his head and drew a long breath by Hawke's hair, but Varric sat unconcerned. "How are you doing that?" Hawke demanded. Or tried to. It came out somewhat muffled through her fingers.

"He lives in the Hanged Man," Fenris said into her braids.

"You jest, but it's true," Varric said. He waved one hand, ignoring Fenris's muttered _I wasn't jesting_. "You should smell the place after the first chokedamp of the season. This is practically a bouquet in comparison."

"Charming. Have I mentioned how much I don't miss Lowtown?" Hakwe's eyes watered as another breeze blew through. "Sweet Andraste, I don't know how they aren't gagging down there."

Tallis removed her handkerchief briefly, "They put a rub on their upper lip. It's got loads of anise in it. You can't smell anything else once it's on."

"That would have been helpful to know before now," Hawke said drily. "I'm guessing you don't have any."

Tallis looked sheepish, "No, I forgot until a minute ago." Hawke stifled the urge to sigh heavily.

"Any other small details you've forgotten?" she asked instead. Tallis began to shake her head, then hesitated before finishing the motion emphatically.

"Not exactly comforting," Hawke said under her breath as Tallis turned her attention back to the clearing. She was beginning to have serious second thoughts about the whole enterprise. Anybody could come up with the idea of a grand heist, but you lived or died by the details. Sometimes quite literally. She wasn't sure even the prospect of Orlesian finery, to be faithfully described in her monthly letter to Bethany later, was worth it.

"Tell me we don't have to go through with this," she said to Fenris, voice pitched low enough not to carry over to Tallis.

"We do not." He tucked his fingers up under her belt in imitation of her actions earlier. "But you are going to anyway."

"I am. Blight take it."

That last came out louder than she intended, and Hawke had to wave Varric off when he looked over in question. Fenris still had his face buried in her hair, even though the breeze had shifted again, and his amused huff ghosted along her ear. She squirmed, goosebumps rising on her neck and down her arms. He waited until she re-settled before deliberately blowing on her ear again. Hawke made an undignified sound - it was _not_ a squeal - and twisted away in surprise. That got both Varric and Tallis's attention. Fenris, damn him, had his "you are doing incomprehensible Hawke things" face on. Hawke could feel herself blushing, something she hadn't done in years.

"Um, bee," she said to a point somewhere between Varric and Tallis's heads. Varric rolled his eyes - years of Wicked Grace had taught him when Fenris was bluffing - but Tallis looked alarmed at the display of jumpy nerves. "A really, really, big one," Hawke added, which didn't seem to help. Tallis leaned over and began a hushed conversation with Varric, eyes occasionally darting over to where Hawke stood.

"Same to you," Hawke muttered under her breath. She rubbed her ear and glared at Fenris when he reached out to pull her hand away. "You know I'm ticklish there," she accused.

He gave her a sly smile, "You are welcome to return the favor later."

Hawke made a face, "That's hardly fair." A week ago she had, quite by accident, discovered that Fenris was ticklish behind the knees. His legs had jerked in automatic response and she'd barely avoided being kicked in the face. He'd been appalled that he'd hurt her until she started laughing, forehead pressed against his thigh. He'd still insisted on making it up to her and the rest of that afternoon had been _very_ nice. Hawke felt her lips curl up at the memory. She eyed his leggings speculatively, wondering if they had enough time to slip away again.

She raised her eyes to his and saw the wry humor in them as he realized where her thoughts had gone. But before she could suggest anything, Fenris shook his head, glancing over her shoulder. "As tempting as the thought is, I suspect this amusement," his voice twisted around the word, "is almost over."

Hawke looked as well. Down in the clearing, the lopsided fight was indeed drawing to its conclusion. One of the wyvern's legs dragged uselessly on the ground and there was a bloody mess where its left eye had been. Its movements were much slower than before, and the Orlesians' strikes were getting bolder and heavier. Not bold enough, though. Hawke would have finished it by now. She looked away. She was used to death - dealt it out with alarmingly regularity in fact - but a bad death still bothered her.

Fenris clearly shared her feelings, disgust written into every line of his body. Hawke wondered if she shouldn't have brought along Aveline instead after all. Fenris would never forgive her if he thought she was coddling him, but if she'd known this little trip would have so many unpleasant reminders . . . Hawke turned back and slid one hand into Fenris's hair. She cupped his jaw with the other and pulled him into a kiss, suddenly feeling fiercely protective.

"We won't stay a second longer than we have to," she whispered. "The moment Tallis gets that relic of hers, we'll go."

"I hardly thought we'd stay for dinner afterward," Fenris said drily. She kissed him again, and felt the sardonic twist of his mouth soften, his arms looping loosely around her waist. A cheer went up behind them, and Hawke sighed.

"Time to go make nice with the nobles," Hawke let her fingers linger on his cheek a moment longer before drawing away. Tallis was already standing, watching them both with a look Hawke couldn't decipher. She gave a mental shrug, not really caring what the thief thought. "All ready?" she asked.

"If you and the elf are done canoodling," Varric settled Bianca on his back.

Fenris scowled, "I do not canoodle."

"I do," Hawke said cheerfully.

"Good to know," Varric gave Bianca one last pat and winked at Hawke.

They took the roundabout way back down to the clearing. Hawke doubted dead wyvern smelled any better than live wyvern and was happy to leave the matter unexplored. Tallis perked up considerably as they went. And for all her doubt about the wisdom of this little excursion, Hawke couldn't help the rising thrill of anticipation she felt. She liked getting into places she wasn't supposed to be. Being Champion meant there were few places in Kirkwall she couldn't go, and it had been ages since she'd felt like she was getting away with something.

And these were Orlesians. Hawke was still Ferelden enough to enjoy an opportunity to tweak their powdered noses. She found herself humming the chorus of a bawdy song about the rebel soldiers as her group reached the entrance to the hunting grounds and grinned.

The trip back to the chateau was uneventful, and Tallis used the time to explain her plan, which was just as incomplete as Hawke had feared. She didn't like the thought of separating from Fenris and Varric either, but she could see the necessity. Fenris did not, and remained unconvinced even after Hawke pointed out that the last thing he was was inconspicuous.

Duke Prosper was waiting in person at the gates. Hawke checked her surprise; she'd assumed he would have taken part in the hunt.

"Champion," he inclined his head, eyes flicking over her still clean clothing. "You are the first to return. Do I owe my congratulations?"

She laughed self-deprecatingly, "I'm afraid not. One of your countrymen had the honor." Was that disappointment on his face? "The wyvern found him. I was close enough to watch, but the kill was rightfully his."

Prosper studied her a moment before giving her a smile that was more teeth than any true emotion. "The vagaries of the hunt," he said. He beckoned to one of the servants, "We will eat after the rest of the hunting parties return. Please take this time to refresh yourself."

Hawke thanked him and followed the servant, a slight elven woman, past the walls of the chateau, noting the way the gate opened as they went. The woman showed her to a pair of rooms off a small hallway which seemed to be completely disconnected from the rest of the fortress, dashing any hope that they could sneak in before the party. Their bags were waiting in the larger of the two rooms. Hawke tossed Tallis hers.

"I'll meet you back outside after I've changed," she said. Varric took the hint and left with Tallis. Fenris stayed. She smiled at him, "Going to help?"

"Perhaps."

He didn't though, just leaned against the wall and watched as she shrugged out of her leathers. There was a pitcher full of water on a side-table, and Hawke used it to wash what she could before taking down her braids. Fenris shifted as she brushed them out, but stayed where he was. She redid her hair in a more formal arrangement and slid in a set of long, very sharp hairpins as a finishing touch. She tilted her head at Fenris and he grunted his approval. The finely woven trousers and silk shirt passed without comment, but Hawke paused when she reached the vest. She met Fenris's eyes and held them as she slipped it on, then slowly, deliberately, turned her back.

He didn't move for a long moment. Then, with an expelled breath that sounded more than half-exasperated, he came to her, stripping his gauntlets off as he went. They joined the pitcher on the side-table and he began lacing up the back of her vest.

"I thought I was supposed to take this off you," he grumbled.

Hawke closed her eyes, enjoying the warm brush of his fingers as he pulled the laces tight. "Has to go on first," she teased. Fenris didn't bother responding to that and the next minute was spent in silence as he worked his way down. Each tug drew the vest tighter around her, and she sighed a little at the implied intimacy.

He finished and put his hands on her waist, turning her to face him. He checked that the vest was firmly in place and frowned, "There is nowhere for your knives."

She shrugged and touched her hairpins, "Stylish _and_ deadly."

He was quiet again, hands shifting up to curl around her rib cage, a steady pressure even through the layers of fabric. He shook his head, "I will be glad when this is over and we can quit this place."

So would Hawke, but it was no good thinking about it now. "You just want to get me naked."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "It is not an unpleasant thought," he admitted.

"I'd better get on with it then. These things never want to steal themselves."

She pulled on her boots while he fastened his gauntlets. As they made to leave, she stopped by the door and grinned at him.

"Will you kiss _me_ for luck?"

"Yes," he said, and did so, before letting her lead them out.


End file.
